Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. No character in this story exists. The following contents outline a fantasy which should never be enacted in real life. All characters are of legal age. Political and ethical beliefs held by characters should not assume beliefs held by the author.
These works depict despicable acts. There will be consistent violation and lack of consent, and it will often be mentally and/or physically brutal. If that's your thing, welcome to the party.
Recap:
A new legal mandate requires selected women to undergo impregnation, while all other women are forbidden the privilege, in order to control the rate of re-population in the United States. Nineteen year old Erin is selected, and though her family had plans to smuggle her out of the country, her brother betrays Erin for the $100,000 in compensation promised by the government. He forcibly kidnaps her and drives her to Denver's Conception Center.
There's no need to detail the rest of that car ride. Suffice to say I suffered from dread and betrayal and anxiety. Mostly, I dwelled in a state of denial about my circumstances.
When we arrived at the austere and unassuming three-story building, a man came out the door to greet us. Lance rolled down his window as I flashed
Help Me
eyes at the stranger. He gave me one look, then proceeded to ignore me.
"Names?" he asked my brother.
"I'm Lance Tierney. This is my sister, Erin. She was picked in the lottery."
The man checked his list, made a tick mark. "Do you need assistance getting her inside?"
"Nah, I got her."
"Then please follow me."
Lance had to cut through the duct tape around the seatbelt buckle, but other than that, he made quick work of carrying me into the building, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Once inside, he set me down on my feet and pulled be back into a choke hold -- albeit, a looser one, mercifully. I was still bound at the wrists, ankles and knees, and there was still several layers of tape keeping a makeshift gag in my mouth.
We were in a reception room, much like in any other business, with a woman sitting at the front desk. She picked up her phone and said something quietly into the receiver as she stared us down. In short order, several men pushed through a door behind which a hallway stretched.
"That was quick work," said one of the men. He was middle-aged, as most of them were, and his eyes were cold. Indifferent, almost. But his tone of voice held a hint of amusement and a definite air of command. He seemed to be in charge here.
Lance shifted in a shrug. "Just how it played out."
"I take it she has... reservations about her assignment?" My brother looked a bit uncomfortable, but the man waved a hand dismissively. "That's not unexpected. That's the genius of the reward money, isn't it?"
It was obviously a rhetorical question, but Lance answered anyway. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"This one is Erin Tierney," interjected the man who'd met us outside.
"Erin Tierney," said the leader in a monotone, "in accordance with the law, you are listed as a participant at the Conception Center beginning at the confirmation of your identity. While here you will undertake your duty in providing new citizens to the United States of America." I could hardly focus on the words he was saying, repeating
no, no, no, no
over and over in my head, denial trying to protect me from the harsh reality of my fate. "Upon signing your consent you will receive only such physical treatment as contributes to the efficacy of your duty. You will be provided with comfortable living quarters, tasteful meals, and any such luxuries as you request."
There had to be some way out of this. They had to release me from this restrictive bondage at some point. My eyes shifted between the men in the room and then searched for exits.
Seeing my reaction, he continued, "Any attempt at violence against the staff and personnel at this facility, or attempt to flee the premises, will be considered an act against the mandate of federal law. This will result in incarceration until trial proceedings, which likely will result in circumstances far worse than the ones you face now. Here, after you sign the forms, you will be provided with comfort and accommodation, and a great deal more freedom than the state penitentiary offers. Do you understand?"
They all looked at me expectantly, and what else could I do but nod? I did so reluctantly because I was beginning to understand. Painful clarity was beginning to claw its way through my fierce denial. My life was over no matter what I did, that was the subtext of what he was telling me.
"You may release her now, Mr. Tierney," the man told my brother, who loosed his hold on my arms. "Best you stay while we confirm her identity, in case this woman is not who you claim her to be."
"She is," said Lance defensively.
The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Once we complete identification, we will arrange for your... compensation. We must follow procedure. Morris, remove the bindings on Miss Tierney's legs."
I could feel my knees shaking as the dark-haired man crouched by me and sliced through the tape holding my thighs together, and then the tape around my ankles. The rush of opportunity was invigorating, as if my body would flee of its own accord before my mind could talk reason. It took every ounce of self control I had not to book it for the door, only the lurking threat of prison keeping me from attempting an escape.
"Follow me, Morris. And you, too, Mr. Tierney."
Though he didn't address me in his direction, it seemed to be expected. Morris grabbed my upper arm and led me down a sterile-looking, white-washed hallway and through a heavy door. The sound of it closing was too final, too frightening.
Inside the room was a small table, no chairs. On top of the table was a small stack of papers and a pen, as well as a briefcase. The room itself was as clinical and austere as the hallway with bright, cold LEDs illuminating the space. In one corner of the ceiling, a camera shone a red light. I was guided to the table, at which point Morris was instructed to loose my wrists from behind my back. He did. My shoulders ached at the relief.
"It would be wise to leave the tape around her mouth. That won't be easy to get off and we are short on time."
"Of course, Richards," agreed Morris with a bland smile.
I was fuming. My nostrils flared. Fine. If they didn't want to do it, I'd do it myself. My fingers reached behind my head, searching for the raised indicator of the end of the tape, but the freedom of my hands was short-lived. Richards grabbed one of my wrists while Morris took the other and together they half-dragged me over to the table and secured me to it by a set of long-chained handcuffs I hadn't seen on the other side of it.
